A Suspicious Nature
by MinervasBibliophage
Summary: There is a stranger in the castle.


**A/N: Finals are over. Here, have a fic. This is set during Minerva's seventh year, and Tom Riddle is just some rando. Enjoy!**

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**A Suspicious Nature**

Minerva McGonagall was striding purposefully up and down the corridors of Hogwarts looking for her idiot friends. Rolanda had thought it would be ingenious to prank the Head Girl so she wouldn't forget her humble origins as a proletarian student and think herself above the rabble. Naturally, she dragged Pomona and Poppy into it because they were much better at acting out her plans.

The puffapods currently flowering on Minerva's bed were testament to Pomona's involvement, as were the open seedpods on the floor that the flowering beans had originated from. The pot of flitterbloom on her desk was most likely Poppy's touch. When Minerva saw it as it reached out and almost got her, she immediately panicked and thought it was Devil's Snare. Knowing Rolanda, who thought no joke could go too far, and Pomona, who assumed everyone was as skilled in Herbology as her, Poppy was the only one who would think to use a harmless plant and let her think it was dangerous. What really got her mad though was how they managed to get into her rooms. As Head Girl she got her own room along with her own portrait, and the damn owl actually let them in. Maybe it thought that they were being nice friends bringing gifts of congratulations (two months overdue mind you), even though they could have had a house elf accomplish the same thing without a breach of security. She was going to have to have a serious talk with the portrait about letting absolutely no one into her room except her.

Minerva was getting to the point of frustration where she was half-tempted to go into the Gryffindor Seventh-year Girls dormitory and set Rolanda's mattress on fire. She wasn't sure she'd be able to do the same for the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw Fifth-years. Their dorm-mates didn't know her very well and might not take kindly to having one of the mattresses in the room reduced to kindling.

That was when she saw the stranger emerging from the wall just down the corridor. Well, he was coming out of a door, but she was certain that she had never seen a door in front of Barnabas the Barmy's tapestry before. Even more distressing than the changing floor plan was that Minerva didn't recognize the man, but she could tell that he was most certainly not a student.

Using her most authoritative voice, which Rolanda said wasn't much different from her normal voice, Minerva called out to him, "Excuse me, sir."

He turned quickly towards her, his suddenly stiff form exuding his surprise. It was evident in that split second that he hadn't been expecting anyone to be there, and then he was relaxed again, almost as though he'd been waiting for her. "Hello," he said with a rather disarming smile as he drew closer.

She was caught off-guard with his affability that warred with her sudden inexplicable unease and the fact that he shouldn't be here. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?" her disquiet had seeped into her voice as the authority leaked out.

Stepping in front of her, "Tom Riddle," he held out his hand to her, "And you are?"

She looked at him incredulously, "The Head Girl, and I asked you a question. What are you doing here? School is still in session and you are neither a professor nor from the Ministry."

He slowly retracted his unshaken hand and responded, a slight disdain creeping into his voice as though he was affronted by her abruptness, "Actually, I'm here to apply for a position. Defense Against the Dark Arts, in fact." He looked her up and down, his eyes focusing on the crimson and gold tie, "So, this is how Gryffindors look now. Shame."

Minerva was startled for a second by the sudden change in topic. Was he actually insulting her? Judging by how his demeanor had seemed to change, he was.

"The real shame is how soundly we beat the Slytherins just last week," she responded in the same tone.

"Now why would you think I'm a Slytherin? Or why I would even care?" Riddle said coolly.

"Well, your response just now confirms it. If you were Gryffindor, you would take umbrage at being thought a part of such a depraved House. Hufflepuffs, the poor little dears, tend to be easily frightened and would immediately reassure me that they are not Slytherin to ensure my Gryffindor ire is not ignited," she said this last sentence so detached that Riddle began to think she was borrowing a friend's tie, "A Ravenclaw might question me as you just did because they're curious and want to know, but they would do it with so much distaste that you could tell they're not a Slytherin. And finally, a Slytherin would question me to find if they were too obvious, and root around with my thought process to see what kind of person they're dealing with."

He watched her with ill-concealed surprise; she gave him a small smile before continuing.

"Now as to what tipped me off. After discovering my House, a Gryffindor would be asking how old Dumbledore's doing, are we still trouncing Slytherin in quidditch. To which I would reply, of course we are, we're Gryffindor," she added cheekily. "A Hufflepuff wouldn't have put me on the defensive the first chance they got," at this he stiffened slightly though she ignored it, feeling a smug sense of satisfaction. "They might ask if I liked being at Hogwarts, was I homesick, just general politeness. A Ravenclaw would have answered my question, then either ask about my grades to see how I compare, or go on their merry way to the Headmaster's. A Slytherin, however, would try to antagonize me since I'm a foolish Gryffindor. They would sound me out to see if I were of any use, a possible source of information." Another smile was delivered with her question, "So, what have you gathered from our conversation?"

"Are you sure you're a Gryffindor? Last time I saw one think so much I thought his head was going to explode."

"It took the Sorting Hat over five minutes, but it seemed to believe I am one."

"Ravenclaw or Slytherin?"

"Ravenclaw."

"Well, makes sense, Slytherin is the diametric opposite…"

"Not really," Minerva interrupted, "They're quite similar in their differences. Gryffindor looks out for all, Slytherin looks out for one."

Riddle nodded absently, his interest obviously piqued at her intense reasoning, "Then tell me why I should care about the quidditch game. I've already graduated."

"At Hogwarts, quidditch is the only power play we have. Nothing drives the students as much; it riles them up and gets their blood boiling. One way or another, almost every dispute is settled on the pitch, even for those in the stands. And it's the best way to contribute to the House Cup. It's the only points students have a direct effect on since the professors can be so arbitrary with the points they give and take. You should remember the effect the sport had on the school while you were here. If not, you should refresh your memory if you intend on being a professor. Quidditch is everything at Hogwarts."

"You're wasted in Gryffindor."

"I believe that's a matter of perspective, Mr. Riddle. But coming from a Slytherin, I'll take that as a compliment."

"I've told you why I'm here, why don't you tell me why you are."

She raised a brow at him, "I don't have to explain myself to you; I'm supposed to be here."

"Careful now, I could be your professor next term." He said it playfully, but she could hear the steel beneath which only served to annoy her.

"The operative word being 'could.' And you never explained why you were here. You've said why you're at Hogwarts, but not why you are _here_."

"That is none of your concern, child," his voice suddenly turning severe.

"Of course," she said scornfully, "because children need not know the doings of adults."

He paused a moment as though to regain equilibrium from his sudden change in tone, then reverted to his friendly manner, "I wanted to see if the place has changed much."

"Slytherins have purpose not sentimentality. They don't waste their efforts on something with no return. If you were sentimental, you'd be in the dungeons, the Great Hall, the quidditch pitch, not an abandoned hallway."

"I wanted to see if I could find someone with whom I could have such a scintillating conversation with," Riddle's voice was dripping with sarcasm at this point.

She crossed her arms over her chest, "I believe he's in the Headmaster's office."

He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Why did this chit of a girl have to make everything so difficult? "In that case, I'll go."

Minerva had to bite her tongue to keep from saying that he should have gone there in the first place. She refrained from the snarky comment only because she noticed how annoyed he was becoming and wasn't sure how he would respond.

He seemed to gain back his composure, and with a drawled "Good day, Gryffindor," he turned to leave.

"McGonagall," she stated firmly.

Riddle turned back to her, "Pardon?"

"Minerva McGonagall. I'm a person not a House, Mr. Riddle. I have called you by your name and did not even bring up Houses until you did. I would appreciate it if you afforded me the same courtesy," she said it so sternly, he almost felt as though she were teaching him a lesson of sorts.

He gave a nod as he acquiesced to her request, "Good day, Ms. McGonagall."

"Good day, Mr. Riddle. I hope you find your place, whether or not it's at Hogwarts."

And some inner voice of hers was practically screaming that it was not. Despite their long conversation, her unease was still unabated. It confused her since he had seemed charming enough, no need for concern, but there was something off about him. She watched his retreating back, making sure that he took the appropriate turn to head towards the Headmaster's Office. Minerva contemplated following him to ensure he went straight there instead of wandering the castle, but she dismissed the idea as paranoid.

Continuing forward a few steps, she stopped slowly and looked at the door that wasn't there. Shaking her head at herself, Minerva went to go find her friends again. But somehow she wasn't very angry with them anymore; annoyed, but not angry. She would merely chastise them and deduct points from all three, reminding them that she may have "humble origins," but she still had the power for a subtle revenge: make their House-mates angry that they lost them twenty points each. And with any luck, Rolanda and she would be in top form in the Ravenclaw match next week and earn back the points so the Gryffindors wouldn't resent Minerva as much for the point deduction.

Despite her relatively satisfactory victory over her juvenile friends, the stalemate with Riddle almost made it feel hollow. And the empty wall stayed in her thoughts the rest of that day; if he had truly been at Hogwarts to apply for a position, then why hadn't he been with the Headmaster to begin with?


End file.
